


Sunlight in the Night

by Odderancy (dreamcatchers_and_chocolate)



Series: Undertale One-Shot Collections [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Babybones (Undertale), Blood Drinking, Class Differences, Happy Family, Implied Child Death, Implied Murder, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamcatchers_and_chocolate/pseuds/Odderancy
Summary: Edge and Red Gaster have seen a lot, and done a lot. That's to be expected of high-ranking members of the vampiric nobility, especially since they're of considerable age. Not much surprises them anymore. Something they truly hadn't expected, though, was to suddenly getinvolvedwith the mortals under their rule.A collections of stories from the lives of the members of the Ancient House of Gaster, as well as some friends  of theirs, in no particular order.





	1. New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted these two first stories on Tumblr before, but since I expect I'll be writing this AU occasionally, I decided I'd start a collection for them here on AO3.
> 
> Tell me if you want me to tag something!

Blood was always best fresh.

And the very best blood was fresh _human_ blood.

Vampires had different ways of getting it. There were the keeping of thralls – a common practice. One could prey on weak people out alone, and attack. Quite crude, in most of their opinions. Manners were of outmost importance, after all. You could also pay humans to sell you their blood, a sort of prostitution if one so wished, if you had a few coins to spare. The richer you were, the better blood you got; if you were a vampire of small means, you may have to do with the drug-chewing whores in the alleys and their poisoned blood.

Edge waved for one of the mortals in the corner, their eyes hazed over with bliss. Vampiric poison was an other kind of drug, and an addicting one. The mortal was dressed in a silk suit, complete with cravat and top hat, and they stumbled forward before heaving themself upon his oaken writing desk, eagerly pulling the cravat down to expose their neck. It was already riddled with holes, some of them still leaking. He had always found the practice of keeping thralls somewhat distasteful, but it _was_ the best method of feeding they had. The quickly developed addiction of being fed from, the complete worship in their eyes as they gazed upon their vampiric lords and ladies. At the very least, he made sure to repay their services with healthy food and a warm bed.

Not that he cared much for the mortals, with their short, quick lives. It was a mere moment in his ancient existence. But it didn’t feel honourable to take their already short lives away from them without making the process as pleasurable as possible.

Putting his quill aside, he leaned forward, and the thrall met him halfway. Sinking his fangs into their throat was simple, and soon the warm, healthy blood flooded his mouth. Edge drank greedily, swallowing mouthfuls of the hot liquid until he could feel the mortal sag against him, limp. Unconscious. Reluctantly, he pulled away. He reached out for a black handkerchief lying on the desk before tying it around their neck and gently lowering them to the floor. Even now, their expression was blissed out, their eyelids fluttered shut and their mouth turned into a half-open smile.

The sight wasn’t very appealing. Grimacing, he turned away, lifting the small black bell also on his desk. Moments later, a minor vampire stepped into the room, bowing before they threw the mortal over their shoulder and left to put them to bed.

Suddenly it knocked on his door of the huge study with its dark red walls and countless bookcases full of leather-bound books. Before he could even reply, the door slid open, revealing Red there, in a completely black suit. His red eyes glowed in the dim room. “We’ve got a visitor.”

Before Edge could get out a word, his brother stepped aside, and a skeleton woman shuffled into view. Her dress was brown and torn and obviously repaired many times over. A shawl covered her head. She held a bundle against her chest, and her cheeks were tear-stained. As he stood up, surprised, she whimpered but curtsied deeply.

“My lord,” she said. Her voice shook, but she looked up and met his gaze, holding it without wavering. Quite impressive, in Edge’s opinion. He could respect that. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, as were the tears gathered in their corners. She didn’t flinch as he took a step forward. “I’m so sorry to disturb but I didn’t know where else to go, I can’t-”

A silent sob broke her off before she swallowed. Her cheeks were flushed brilliantly blue and Edge could sense the marrow pulsing through her bones. As she inhaled shakily, her hold on the bundle eased, and she turned it around to reveal a tiny skeleton sucking on its thumb. Its eyes were closed. A baby. Edge blinked in surprise, his eyes flickering between her and her child.

“I can’t feed him. I don’t have anywhere for him to live. He’s going to die as soon as winter comes, freeze to death. And I can’t give him to an orphanage, those _horrid_ places.” She stepped forward, swaying with each step, and held it up toward him. “I don’t know want to know what you will do to him, my lord, but please, _promise me_ he won’t suffer.”

Yet some vampires found their sources of food by taking children from desperate parents who realized a painless death was the most merciful alternative. Young blood was said to be unrivalled.

Suddenly, the baby opened his eyes. They were just as brilliantly blue as his mother’s, and he cooed as he reached his hands up in the air, grasping for Edge. Staring up at him with the complete absence of fear only a young child could every carry in his soul. Even Edge felt fear sometimes, mostly for his brother’s sake. The mother was shivering, but she didn’t lower her arms. She would give him her child. He did have a reputation around the county for being an unusually merciful vampire lord, after all, and so he shouldn’t be too surprised.

His eyes flickered up to Red’s, but his brother only shrugged. It was Edge’s decision. He met the woman’s eyes again. “What is his name?”

“Sans, my lord,” she said. The smallest sparkle of hope lit up in her eyes at his question. “His name is Sans.”

When he reached out for the child, she held him higher, and immediately released her son once he was safe in Edge’s arms. She stared at him, a question in her eyes, and he nodded. A grateful smile lit up her face as she curtsied quickly before bowing down and pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead. “I love you,” she whispered. “Never forget.”

The baby cooed again, and his laughter was pearly and clear. The woman thanked him again as she curtsied one last time, and Red showed her out. Edge just stared down at the mortal baby in his arms. The bones were still soft and malleable, and somehow, he had managed to grab Edge’s little finger, squeezing as tight as he could. His soul skipped a beat. What was he supposed to do with this little one? He was an ancient vampire lord, one of the Children of the Night. He’d killed, emptied humans on blood, even slayed his own kind at a few occasions.

But-

“We’re keeping it, aren’t we?”

He jumped as his brother appeared just next to him. Red chuckled as he glared, but there was something softer on his face as he stared down at the baby in Edge’s arms. Their eyes met. “Yes,” Edge sighed. Ruthless as he was, he had never hurt a child before, and to start now didn’t feel right.

Suddenly, the baby’s face scrunched up, and it let out an ear-deafening scream. They both winced. Their hearing was so much more sensitive than a human’s. A slightly panicked look appeared on Red’s face, and Edge could only agree as he stared down at the crying baby just in time for fat teardrops to start rolling down his face. _Fuck_. Pressing the baby to his chest, he hushed it, shaking it gently. He’d never even _touched_ a baby before what the hell was he supposed to do? His soul sped up as he stared down at it. A headache was starting to form.

“Uhhhhhh-” Red said, his eyes flickering wildly. “Maybe he’s hungry? Gotta be some mother down in the village who can feed ‘im? I’ll take a look okay bye!”

Before Edge could even react, he swept toward the half-open window, jumping straight out. Edge’s eyes widened. “ _Don’t you dare leave me alo-_ ” And a black bat squeaked as it left the castle behind, going toward the village. Edge swore after it. _Bastard_.

Growling, he turned back to the child, continuing to hush it. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed the fire flickering in the fireplace, more for the thralls’ sake than his, and his gaze went to the bundles the child was in. Perhaps- Hesitantly, he began to unwrap it until only the last one remained. Soon, the screaming stopped until only a sniffing remained, and then that stopped as well. Edge wasn’t sure how to react as the baby started cooing again. That was a quick mood-change. But as he mashed his entire hand into his mouth, laughing around it and kicking out with its legs, Edge couldn’t help but smile.

Shaking his head in amazement over how their lives had just suddenly got thrown around, he hoisted the baby higher until it rested just over his soul. One of Edge’s fingers trailed his head, and he giggled. So soft and harmless. Protectiveness surged through him as he watched the baby, followed by vampiric possession. _His, now_. He nodded, pleased, and the blue eyes followed the movements of his skull. His smile softened.

“Welcome to the noble and ancient Gaster family then, Sans.”

More pearling laughter was his only answer.


	2. Market Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the end notes
> 
> So this wasn't the other story I was planning on putting up second, so _next_ story will the the one from my Tumblr. So instead you get this.  
> This collection is mainly going to focus on Edge and Red, but here come some babybones (and some vampires).

Laughter spread across the square outside of the tall white village church, and the scent of sugar and grilled meat spread over the crowd gathered every time the breeze swept by. Blue grinned as he regarded the little market they’d put up, with stands selling food and items, and games played by both adults and children, before turning to his playmate. Sans grinned at him as he ate the last of the candy apple he’d bought before throwing the stick to the ground, licking his teeth. In difference to Blue, and all the other villagers, in his black, sturdy trousers and knitted sweater, Sans wore a small suit, complete with both coat and cravat, though it was untied. Which Lord Edge wouldn’t be happy if he found out, Blue’s mind supplied, and he chuckled. Lucky for them then that Sans’ guardians didn’t leave their castle during the day.

Normally, neither did Sans, but today was market day and he simply _couldn’t_ miss it. Blue’s mother, who had been Sans’ wet nurse when they both were babies, had promised their landowners to look after their charge. And there she was, a bit into the crowd, searching for them. A giggle escaped him as he grabbed Sans’ hand, pulling him in behind one of the stands. Mr Martin, the butcher, raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly, but didn’t say anything as Blue shushed him.

“Let’s lose ma,” Blue whispered, and as Sans nodded, he stood on his tiptoes, and gestured for the other to follow. Chuckling, Sans mimicked him as he led the way behind the stands, keeping well out of sight for the crowd. Yeah, they’d worry his mother, which was sad. But they were ten years old, they couldn’t constantly have his mother hanging over their shoulders.

For a moment, he considered where to go, but before he could, Sans pulled him to a stop and pointed at the forest. “What if we hide in there until she’s gone?”

“ _Genius_.”

“Good. Then we don’t have to run around so much.”

Blue rolled his eyes as they entered the forest, waving goodbye to the vendors outside. Especially Ms Cornwell, the baker, who eyed them nervously. Or rather, eyed Sans nervously. “Seriously, Sans, can’t you stop looking like you for two moments, so everyone isn’t worrying Lord Edge and Lord Red will eat us if you get as much as a scratch?”

Goodness, if one of the adults had heard him say that, he would’ve had to clean up after the chickens for a month. It was stupid. He’d known the lords of Dorenne since he was a baby and they’d never hurt him. Not even attempted to drink his blood. Why would they? It wasn’t like they didn’t have enough willing thralls.

A shiver went up Blue’s spine as he thought of the empty-eyed mortals he’d sometimes see in the castle, eyeing the vampires with worshipful devotion. Not even the priest looked like that reverent when speaking about _God_. Usually they were kept hidden away, though. Lord Edge said he didn’t want them around Blue, which he was silently grateful for. He still had nightmares about the village beggar who’d suddenly disappeared, but he’d recognized among the thralls one day.

“Nah,” Sans replied, jumping over a fallen log. “Then they wouldn’t give me free food. Dunno why they do that, we’re rich.” He stuck his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of caramels. “Want any?”

Kicking away pine cone as hard as he could, and watching it bounce against one of the trees, Blue nodded eagerly and plopped an orange one into his mouth. As he rolled it over his tongue, the taste of oranges spread in his mouth. He’d had oranges thrice before: twice in the castle, and once he’d gotten one in Christmas gift. It was a shame they were so difficult to come by, it was his favourite fruit. “Thanks! And it’s because they want to keep your guardians pleased!”

Sans hummed, sticking a pink caramel into his own mouth. “That’s dumb, Red and Edge probably would be offended if they knew I’m getting free stuff. They’d want me to be too. Y’all need to learn some manners if you want to impress them.”

Frowning, Blue looked at him, taking a step forward. A twig snapped beneath his shoe, making him freeze. He forgot what he had been about to say as he turned around, seeing only trees everywhere. Firs and pines and stones. Green, green, brown, green. The colours seemed to swirl before his eyes. “Sans,” he said, voice thin. “I’ve never been this deep into the forest by myself before. Do you know where we are?”

The other froze, twisting around to look first to the sides and then up. Above, they could only see the tree crowns. It was so thick they couldn’t see the sun, had no way of knowing which ways were north and south. He visibly swallowed. “No. This is not the castle grounds.”

“Are we lost?” His voice wavered, and he stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers to hide their trembling.

Sans nodded slowly, his eyelights flickering. A snap came from a bit away, and he twisted around. “I think so. But. No worries.” His grin was strained as he turned back to Blue. “Red and Edge will realize I’m not back when they wake up. They’ll- they’ll find us, if no one does before. Vampires have noses like blood-hounds.”

“But it’s only noon,” Blue whispered, stepping closer to his friend, taking a small comfort in being close as their arms pressed together. “Sunset isn’t in hours.”

“Should we try to go back, then?”

Blue shook his head, grabbing Sans’ hand for closeness. It felt just a little bit less scary then, and Sans squeezed back. A bird cawed in the distance. “I don’t know which way we came from. Dad always says I should stay where I am if I get lost, too.”

“Well, I guess we’re staying here then,” Sans said, attempting to keep his grin up. It wavered. “I’m sure they’ll find us in no time.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off, pulling down Sans on a tree stump to sit. Forcing a smile onto his face, he held out his hand. “You’ve got more of those candies?”

* * *

Night was falling. Blue shivered, and he could feel Sans do the same, even though they were sharing his coat. Honestly, Sans probably froze more than he did: his sweater was warmer than Sans’ fancy shirts. He’d remember that the next time they went on an adventure. _If they ever were found_ , a tiny voice inside his mind whispered. It had been hours. Everyone must’ve noticed they were gone now, shouldn’t they be searching?

They still couldn’t see the sky, but the forest was dark and the shadows enormous. An owl hooted in the distance. The deer skull lying a bit away seemed to stare at them as shadows rose behind, and Blue quickly averted his eyes, resisting the urge to cry. He wanted to go home. Home to his mum and dad and the cottage and warm hearth and his bed. And food. His stomach grumbled at the thought of food. Sans’ caramels hadn’t lasted long, and he was starving.

Sans’ arms were embracing him, and the other was hiding his face against his collarbone. He was even more unused to be around by himself than Blue was, since his guardians were both very protective. Darkness continued to lower itself over the forest, and soon, Blue couldn’t even see more than a few meters.

A lump was stuck in his throat, and his mouth was dry. A twig snapped somewhere out in the forest, and he whimpered, curling up tighter on the stump. Probably just another deer, he told himself. There were no wolves here anymore, not since he was little. They were chased away after eating cattle.

A bush rustled, and they both held their breaths. Then, suddenly, footsteps. Blue relaxed, preparing to throw off Sans’ coat, as he yelled, “We’re here! I and Sans are here!”

No response, but the footsteps became louder. They twisted around to face the way of them, to see who their saviour was, as a chuckle penetrated the night. Blue’s soul skipped a beat. That didn’t sound like any of the villagers, or the lords. “Who’s- who’s there?” he squeaked.

“Aw, are you lost?” a smooth voice asked, and a shape stepped out from the shadows. Their eyes glowed red in the dark, and as Blue squinted, he saw they were dressed in clothes similar to him, but their teeth-

“Vampire,” Sans breathed, his breath audibly catching. “But not from the castle. Who- who are you? I de- demand to know.” His voice shook, even as he tried to speak up.

The vampire grinned widely, stepping closer. They slowly inhaled. They whimpered as they closed in on them. For a moment, Blue wanted to run, but there was no use. They’d never run away from a vampire. “Smells _delicious_ ,” they said without taking notice of their questions. “I’m _parched_.”

“It’s a rogue.” Sans sounded terrified as his eyes flickered between the vampire and Blue.

After spending so much time in the castle, even Blue knew what that meant. A hunter. A vampire living outside of civilized vampiric society, hunting prey instead of having thralls or buying blood. Hunting _mortals_. People like them. “Lord- Lord Edge won’t be happy if you hurt us,” he squeaked. “He’s Sans’ guardian.”

Their grin widened. “Ah, that’s that smell. You’re the Gasters’ _mortal_ kid, are you. Such weaklings, unable to kill a mortal baby even after all their years. They’re going to watch you grow old, little one, waste away in a time that is a mere moment in their immortal existence. I might as well spare them the suffering.”

They scrambled backwards as the rogue closed in on them, yelping as they fell off the stump. Pain flashed through his tailbone as he landed on one of its roots, and the rogue chuckled darkly as they began to lean over the stump.

“Step away from the children,” a growl came from behind the rogue, “or you’ll regret it.”

The rogue swore loudly as they threw themselves backwards, twisting around and hissing toward the trees, where two very familiar vampires stepped out. Even in their suits, Lord Edge and Lord Red looked _vicious_ , their teeth bared into snarls and their eyes blood-red. The rogue’s gaze flickered over to the kids, and their tongue flicked over their mouth before they twisted around and bolted.

The sound of their footsteps disappearing into the forest, through bushes and over twigs, was much quieter than it should’ve been. Lord Red cursed loudly and set off after them, also he almost soundlessly. For a moment, Blue thought Lord Edge was going to go as well, but then Sans let out a quiet sob, and that was enough for tears to start sliding down Blue’s cheeks as well as the adrenaline wore off. His body shook with sobs as he cried, burying his face in his trousers, and Lord Edge let out a soft sigh before stepping over to them and kneeling.

“Shh,” he said gently, reaching out to pull them both into his embrace. Blue froze for a single second, never having been this close to him before, before doing like Sans and clinging onto him, grasping desperately at his shirt as he trembled. He didn’t even care that he was destroying the expensive shirt the other was wearing. Warmth rushed into his body as Lord Edge hummed, stroking their backs. “You’re safe now, we’re here. No one is going to hurt either of you.”

Eventually, they calmed down, and Blue managed to breathe normally again. Blushing, he freed himself from Lord Edge’s embrace, his soul fluttering nervously in his chest as he regarded the wet spots where he’d been crying at the other. “I- I’m so-”

He didn’t have time to finish his apology before Lord Edge shook his head. His smile was kind. “We’ll let it slide today, Blue. Are you two okay? Are you hurt? I smell no blood.”

“We’re alright, Edge,” Sans muttered, his cheeks tear-stained. He was trembling, and as Blue saw that, he realized he was too. His eyelids felt heavy. It must be long after bedtime.

Lord Edge simply nodded, exhaling heavily. Sans stayed curled up in his lap, and soon nodded asleep, quiet snores echoing through the forest, but Blue couldn’t do the same. Not even when Lord Edge offered a seat in his lap. He may not fear their vampiric lords, but his ma had still taught him about propriety, and this wasn’t it. And Lord Edge wasn’t his parents. He wanted _them_. He could feel his body screaming for his parents to hug him.

After what felt like an eternity, Lord Red returned from the forest. His eyes were still blazing, fury burning in them, though they softened as they caught sight of Sans sleeping in his brother’s lap. “He got away, damn it. Didn’t he look familiar?”

Nodding, Lord Edge glanced at Blue, who stared at them between half-lidded eyes. A huge yawn escaped him as they dropped once more. He wanted to sleep. “Oh,” Lord Red said. “Well, we better get the kiddo home. His parents are worried senseless.”

Blue didn’t even have the energy to protest as Lord Red picked him up, holding him like a baby, like he didn’t weigh anything at all. Certainly not like he was ten, almost a grown-up. But despite technically being dead, Lord Red was so warm, and soft, and Blue couldn’t help but snuggle into him. A chuckle came from above as he slid into the Dreamscape.

The next thing he was aware of was his parents hushed voices, and of changing which pairs of arms he was in. He let out a breath of relief as he could finally hide his face in the familiar-scented shirt of his father: it smelled of smoke and embers, like the forge. A hand stroked his head. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: getting lost, near-attack of children, children being threatened.
> 
>  
> 
> I am very unused to writing children, especially of this age, so if I did anything wrong then I'm blaming it on inexperience


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: past suicide attempt, mentions of prostitution
> 
> Here's that other story straight from my Tumblr, though I did rewrite it since it's kind of old. 
> 
> Spicyhoney

One’d think offering yourself up to a vampire should be an easy way to die. It wasn’t in any way an illogical assumption that any vampire would jump onto the chance to get a willing victim, especially one that explicitly wanted you to kill them. Dying while overwhelmed by vampiric poison did sound like the best way to go, in Stretch’s opinion. At least if the vampire wasn’t one of the sadists who enjoyed when they food struggled, and it was widely known the Lords of Dorenne weren’t that kind. Especially Lord Edge, who always had shown more mercy than anyone could expect from his kind.

So when he had given himself to him – all of him, his body, soul, and life – he had expected a quick death. Perhaps a few hours more to live at most, until whenever a vampire had supper. Yet here he was. Four years later, or a little more. Sighing as Doomfanger – that _evil_ cat – rubbed himself against the evening coat hanging by the door. Stretch shook his head as he shooed away the cat and sank to his knees to attempt brushing the hair away. The stone floor was cold through his trousers, but not uncomfortably so. Picking away as much hair as he could, he bit his tongue to avoid swearing.

Apparently, giving up himself to the vampire lord meant not only that the other could kill him but also that he could order him to live. The corners of his mouth twitched. At the time, he’d hated it. Hated _Edge_. He’d hated that he’d been given a position at the castle, which he had no other choice than to take. Even if he had been able to say no, it would only have made him starve and freeze at the streets instead.

Through the beautifully carved oak door, he could hear footsteps. They echoed loudly through the empty hallways. Soon, Edge appeared in the doorway, leaning against it. A smug smile lit up his face and his fangs flashed in the moonlight coming in through the window. It was a full moon tonight. And tonight, it was Dorenne’s turn to host the Full Moon Gala: an ancient tradition among the vampiric nobility. Edge was already dressed, and Stretch’s soul fluttered in his soul at the sight. In a black and blood-red suit, he was even more gorgeous than usual.

Before either of them could speak a word, Edge stepped up to him, holding out his hand. When Stretch took it, he was pulled onto his feet once more and sharp teeth pressed against his. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the other. Somehow, despite his lifelessness, Edge was warm. Stretch smiled into the kiss, feeling the same kind of warmth blossom in his soul.

Ruby-red eyelights met his. Edge jerked his head toward the coat. “Ready to attend the gala?”

Laughing awkwardly, he rubbed his neck. He ducked his head, glancing at it. “Not at all.”

For fuck’s sake, he was the son of a whore. He’d grown up in a whorehouse and then spent most of his adult life slaving away for anyone who would pay him a single coin or a meal. Needless to say, he was still in denial over the fact that Edge had decided he was going to mingle with the ancient, cultivated guests of tonight’s event. People he’d _served drinks_. Because apparently vampires could still appreciate fine wine.

A hand gently grabbed his jaw, tilting his head up again. Edge pressed a kiss to his forehead, smiling. “You will do great, love,” he promised warmly, grabbing and holding up the suit. “Now change. Sans is almost as excited as I am to see how you look. You’ll undoubtedly be even more beautiful as usual.”

“Thanks. I suppose,” Stretch mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow up. Edge’s silver buttons turned a wispy orange in the glow. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the young lord, who’d been a teenager when he’d arrived and had now grown up into a handsome young man. His peers down in the village was all over him.

Nimble fingers began working his buttons. Stretch shivered when his ribs were exposed to the cold air of the room and he glared at the other, but Edge only laughed. He growled, even as his soul sped up at the pure adoration in his lover’s eyes.

“No supposing,” Edge scolded lightly, handing him the white silk shirt. He pulled it over his head obediently. “I _know_ you’ll be the most exquisite person in the castle.”

“I can’t.” Edge gave him a _gaze_ , narrowing his eyes. Stretch grinned. “’Cause that’s you, precious.”

Even as the anxiety lingered, he laughed out loud as Edge froze in his tracks. A faint red lit up his cheeks, and he was absolutely stunning when he was blushing.

“Don’t be an idiot,” was all the vampire said. Stretch’s grin grew, and he winked.

He had hated being here, being forced to stay alive. But now? He’d never been happier.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should write about Stretch coming to the castle.  
> Also anyone who have any wishes of what you'd like to see is welcome to come with suggestions, here or on Tumblr


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch's arrival to the Castle of Dorenne

”Edge, look.”

A mild voice made him look up from the book he was reading. Edge sat in one of the gothic armchairs in his private parlour, having taken a pause from the administrative parts of ruling the extensive grounds of Dorenne Castle. By the door, which was an impressive meter-high oak door, Sans stood, holding a canvas between his hands. Smiling, he beckoned the child forward. Fifteen now, almost an adult. Time always flied for someone of his extensive age, yet somehow years since Sans came to the castle had seemed faster than ever. It was almost worrying. How on earth was the child only five years from coming of age? It seemed like nothing more than a week since he was the infant his mother had handed over.

Sometimes he wondered what had happened to her. They’d attempted to find her, just to let her know her child was happy, once they had Sans settled in, but as they had not known her name or even where she came from, it had turned out to be impossible.

Standing up, he looked Sans over. He wasn’t wearing neither vest nor coat, though it was for the best seeing how he was splattered with paint, all the way to the red traces on his cheek. “What have you got there, Sans?”

With a proud smile, Sans flipped the canvas around and Edge’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, that is really good.” The painting depicted a volcano spitting ash and fire over a Roman city. The foreground was dark and only shapes of people could be made out, but even then, they looked terrified. He released a breath as memories washed over him. “Sans, that is fantastic, you are getting better and better every day. I am impressed.”

He lit up, beaming up at Edge. “It’s how I imagine it looked when Pompeii was destroyed. Was I correct?”

“I believe you were. It was a long time ago and my memories aren’t perfect, but it looks like the Pompeii of my dreams.” The painting was dry, rough, so he reached out, sliding his fingers over the Roman buildings and the fleeing people. The mountain in the distance, destroying the people that had once thought it their protector. He and Red had barely gotten away, managing to get onto a ship only a minute before it left the harbour and the city they had grown up in.

He knew Red still had occasional nightmares about the family they’d left behind. He couldn’t deny he didn’t sometimes too woke up tasting ashes in the air.

“You’re talented.” Taking the painting from his hands, he held it up higher, regarding it closely. Then he looked down at Sans again, his smile softening. “Go show Red, sunray. Then I’d like to put this up in the dinner room, if that’s okay with you?”

Sans’ mouth formed into an _O_ as his eyes widened. Obviously they had some of his paintings up on the walls, but they’d never offered to put them in one of the more official rooms before. He smiled and nodded. “That’s fine. Thank you.” When he was handed back the painting, a light lit up in his eyes. “Oh! Speaking of, Alaric said you have a visitor down in the grand parlour. A mortal.”

“Oh?” Sans nodded, and he mirrored the nod. “Well, I better get down then. I believe Red should be in the laboratory at this time of day.” Down in the dungeons beneath the castle, Red had built himself a laboratory a century ago. His pride and joy, where Sans only last year had been allowed. It was a dangerous place, after all, with concoctions boiling and the occasional corpse for his brother to dissect. Sans nodded and scudded out the door again, and his footsteps soon echoed through the castle as he went down the long staircases.

After taking a last moment to chase away the memories, he did the same.

He took one of the staircases in the walls. Those usually only for servants, but he found quite practical for fast-travelling the castle. It was narrow and circular, and the walls were scratched. At one point Edge had to navigate around a servant carrying a bucket full of water. One of the mortals working here, since few vampires would wish to spend eternity cleaning floors. When he exited the staircase, he found himself in the entrance hall of the castle. The walk to the grand parlour was short, and Alaric, the butler and head of staff, stood waiting. The minor vampire bowed when Edge appeared. “My lord,” he said. “A mortal insisted on speaking with you.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking a step toward the door, and Alaric immediately opened it for him. The parlour was a magnificent room. The ceiling was high and had an enormous chandelier illuminating the room, and the walls were painted in azure. Enormous paintings decorated it, some of them older than the castle itself, and the furniture in this particular room was three hundred years old. Inside, on the very edge of one of the chairs in the middle of the room, sat a mortal. A skeleton, clad in brown and black rags.

As soon as the door slid open, revealing Edge, the mortal shot to his feet. He swung slightly, and for a moment Edge wondered if he was going to fall, but then he folded at the waist into an awkward bow.

Raising an eyebrow, Edge made his way up to the mortal and the table with its chairs. “Goodnight, mortal. Who are you and what is your business?”

“Stretch Eloiseson, m’lord,” they – he – said. His voice was steady, which was surprising. Usually those who came here would be terrified, but when Stretch straightened again there was no fear in his eyes. In fact, he almost looked… _relieved_. Huh. And that surname- He was named after his mother. Illegitimate then, undoubtedly, with no father who had recognized him. “And I have come to offer myself up to you, m’lord. Kill me, please. Empty me on magic.”

Well. Moving deliberately, Edge stepped up to him and grasped his jaw, holding it tight. The quietest whimper escaped Stretch, but he stayed quiet otherwise. Impressing, Edge had a strong grip. He met the mortal’s eyes. There was a tint of fear in them. A teaspoon of self-preservation. Perhaps it was a mere instinct awoken by being in the company of one of nature’s greatest predators, but Edge wondered… The mortal’s face was pale and their expression one of both fear and pleading. It reminded Edge of _that night_ , the night Sans came to the castle, bundled up in his terrified mother’s arms. He hadn’t cared for mortals in nearly two thousand years, but the arrival of his protegee had changed something.

“I accept your offer,” he said abruptly, straightening. When he let go of the other’s jaw, Stretch rubbed it. His eyes widened. Without taking notice, Edge turned toward the door, where Alaric was waiting. “Paper and a quill, please, Alaric. We will write the contract immediately.”

With a short bow, Alaric nodded. “Immediately, my lord.”

“Oh, and let the cook know we will be needing a mortal meal. Stretch here looks famished.”

“Of course.”

It was mere minutes before the material was delivered. While they waited, Edge studied the mortal. His shoulders were hunched       and his bones dirty. It looked as though he’d attempted to scrub himself off before coming here, but without managing too well. It was winter outside after all, and if he had attempted to clean himself in the river, he wouldn’t have been able to stand too much of the freezing water.

Once Alaric returned, handing him the paper and the quill, he held out his hand. “Your arm, please.”

Confusion spread over Stretch’s face, but he did as asked. Taking the empty inkwell Alaric had brought as well, placing it beneath the arm. Stretch watched him hesitantly, only to hiss loudly as Edge swept one of his claws over the bone of his arm, drawing blood. “What the fu-” He cut himself off, recoiling backwards.

“Vampiric contracts require blood, obviously,” Edge said, leading the running blood into the inkwell. He pretended he didn’t notice the other’s sudden fear. Once he had enough of Stretch’s, he took off his own coat before rolling up his left sleeve. He did the same to his own arm. Putting the quill into the inkwell, he stirred it and put it to the paper.

The contract was short and to the point. A simple cession, where _Stretch Eloiseson_ moved _the ownership of_ _his_ _body and soul_ to _Edge Gaster, Lord of Dorenne_. Once it was written, he cleaned out the quill and placed the quill in Stretch’s hand.

“Dip it in your blood. Do you know how to write your name?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, m’lord.”

“And you’re sure this is what you wish to do?”

As he said that, Stretch’s gaze hardened with determination and he bowed over the table, signing his name on the line at the end of the contract. It glowed for a second, ancient magic at play. The contract was sealed.

“Perfect. Alaric, get Stretch into some proper clothing. Perhaps call up a healer from the village, to make sure he doesn’t carry anything that can be transmitted to Sans.” Offence lit up Stretch’s face at the implications, but Edge had no wish of endangering his protegee’s health. “And once he’s dressed, send him to the kitchens for that food.”

The whole time, Stretch didn’t get a word in. He was gaping soundlessly as Alaric agreed and ushered him out the door.

“Oh, and make sure no one takes a bite out of him. This one’s not a thrall,” he added, watching in amusement how Stretch’s head twisted around so he could stare at him in bewilderment and something like anger before he was pushed out of the room.

“Of course, my lord,” Alaric agreed. He was an excellent butler, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy what you're reading, do leave a comment, please! It makes me incredibly happy to know you like what I write!
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